


Losing Hope

by bubblesbromleigh



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Captivity, Daryl Whump, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Rescue, Torture, sure I will think of others as I go along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-16 20:39:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7283929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubblesbromleigh/pseuds/bubblesbromleigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A run from Alexandria goes badly wrong and Daryl has to hope his friends come through for him before it's too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this based on the internet rumours for the season 5 finale, back in February 2015, when the episode summary stated that Daryl gets into trouble on a run. It was originally posted on Fan Fiction under my other name mistyeye. I've decided to post it here just to see how it does. Please let me know what you think. It's finished so the chapters will be updated fairly regularly.  
> Scenes of torture and suffering throughout.

Prologue

Time had no meaning any more, days, maybe weeks, had passed since he'd first been shoved into the cage. He’d fought hard the first few times they’d thrust him into the small enclosed space, but now he welcomed it. Now it meant his ordeal was over, at least for a while.

He shifted his exhausted, battered body in the confined space, trying to find a more comfortable position. Thick metal manacles encircled his wrists and ankles, a short, heavy chain linking the two sets of restraints, forcing him to lean forward, the un-natural posture causing his back to cramp and spasm.

Attempting to cradle his injured arm against his chest caused him to hiss in agony as the slight movement sent shockwaves of pain flooding through him. There wasn’t a part of him that didn’t hurt, either bruised, cut or burnt and he’d lost track of how many bones were probably broken.

He knew his body was beginning to shut down, knew it couldn’t take much more but he forced his mind to focus. He just had to hold on until they found him.

He knew they would be looking for him.

They had to be, they wouldn’t just abandon him, leaving him to his fate.

Would they?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go downhill on a run and Glenn and Daryl find out just how unreliable the people of Alexandria are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter sets the scene and explains how Daryl finds himself in trouble.

Chapter 1

5 Days earlier.

Daryl and Glenn exchanged disbelieving glances, wondering how the hell the people of Alexandria had survived as long as they had. The run to the small town 30 or so miles from the safe zone was the first time any of their group had been out with the sheltered survivors. The three men had driven straight into the centre of the town with no thought of any potential danger. They marched into the abandoned stores without checking for walkers first and used their guns indiscriminately, scoffing when Glenn used a knife to take out a walker silently, mocking when Daryl had to stop to retrieve his bolts from the corpses.

“Could’ve shot six more in the time it took you to get them back” one of them fired into the skull of a walker no more than three feet away from him.

“Wouldn’t of been six more if you assholes weren’t callin’ them in with all the noise you’re makin’” Daryl snarled, getting in the man’s face.

Glenn stepped between them before it became a problem.

“Let’s just get what we need and get out of here” he reasoned “ before more of them arrive”

With a final glare Daryl stomped off, heading into the pharmacy. He and Glenn had already checked the rear exit, making sure it was clear and unlocked in case they needed an alternative way out. The five men picked their way through the already heavily looted store, finding few items of use.

They had reached the far end of the store when the sound of the door opening stopped them. Peering cautiously round the shelves Daryl saw a group of about eight heavily armed, rough looking men milling around the entrance.

Using hand signals he indicated that they retreat to the rear exit. Glenn pushed on the door, opening it a few inches before the chains now wrapped around the handles stopped it.

“You thinkin’ ‘bout using that back door, don’t bother” a taunting voice called “we locked it up good and tight. Only way you lot are getting’ out is if we say so and I don’t see that happening”

The Alexandria residents looked at each other in panic.

“What we going to do?” one of them whispered “They’re going to kill us”

Daryl and Glenn exchanged looks again, as they moved away from the door, instinctively looking for another way out. A door behind the counter opened into a small store room, light filtering in through a dirty skylight.

“We’ll go out through there, down the roof and make a run for the car” Glenn explained to the frightened men as Daryl pulled a table under the skylight, scrambling up and forcing it open.

“Get your asses up here” he ordered. The men hurried to obey, desperate to save their own skins. Linking his hands together Daryl gave each man a boost until they were outside, leaving just him and Glenn in the small room.

“Now you, Korean boy” Daryl waited for Glenn to put his foot in his cupped hands so he could hoist him up.

Glenn hesitated “If I go, how you going to get up there, it’s too far to jump?”

Daryl shrugged “Don’t worry ‘bout me, I’ll find a way. Get your butt up there, someone’s gotta watch out for them Alexandria jerks”

They could hear the men laughing as they made their way through the pharmacy, searching for their prey.

“Come out, come out wherever you are” one of them called in a sing song voice “we’re gonna find you, there’s no point prolonging it”

“Get the hell outta here now!” Daryl grabbed Glenn’s foot and shoved him up, towards the skylight, forcing the younger man to scramble out.

“I don’t get back, you don’t come find me. Don’t want any of you risking yourselves for me, not now you all got a safe place” Before Glenn could say anything Daryl had jumped down from the table. Shooting a last look at Glenn’s anguished face as he peered down, the hunter notched a bolt in his crossbow.

“Go” he snarled “aint no point you getting caught too. Won’t help anyone”

“We’ll come for you, you’re part of our family. You don’t come back we will find you” Glenn promised as he reluctantly slipped away.

Daryl braced his back against the wall facing the entrance, crossbow raised as he waited for the men to find the door. He heard the voices draw closer, then there was a brief silence.

Suddenly there was a blast of noise and the wooden door was riddled with holes. Daryl managed to throw himself to the floor as the bullets from the automatic rifles tore into the wall he’d been leaning on. He gave a yelp as one of the bullets grazed his shoulder, another ripping into his leg. He pulled himself into a sitting position, aiming the crossbow again as what was left of the door was kicked open. 

“Anyone left alive in there?” a voice sneered. When they received no reply one of the men cautiously poked his head into the room. The bolt caught him in the throat and he was dead before he hit the ground. At once the others rushed the room. The crossbow was ripped from his hands and Daryl was dragged to his feet. The men pulled him into the store, throwing him against the shelves, forming a semicircle around him, trapping him in place.

“Where’s the rest of your group?” one of them demanded, fists clenched as he bounced on his toes, itching to lash out.

“Aint no group, S’just me” Daryl lied, trying to stare the man down. A fist flashed out but Daryl dodged it and the man swore as his hand made contract with the edge of a metal shelf.

“Hold the bastard still” he instructed. At once hands reached for Daryl, digging into the flesh of his upper arms as they tried to restrain him. He fought and struggled but he was out numbered and injured. Once he was held in place the man approached him, leaning close into his face.

“Where’s the rest of your group?” he repeated.

Daryl held his gaze “Already told yer, aint no group” He managed to contain the yell as the man’s fist hit him hard in the stomach.

“You telling me you managed to drive two cars here on your own?” he asked quietly.

“Drove one car, other one was already here” Daryl kept eye contact, not wanting to show weakness.

The man grabbed a handful of Daryl’s hair and yanked his head back violently, causing his skull to bounce against the edge of the shelves.

“Be easier on you if you tell us what we want to know” he was standing close, getting into Daryl’s space, trying to be intimidating. Daryl had no problem with fighting dirty and bought his knee up hard, making contact with the man’s crotch, causing him to fold in half, wheezing in pain.

“Get the hell outta my face” the hunter snarled as he braced himself for the retaliation.

The man rose, trying to compose himself.

“Take him to the car. We’ll take him back to the others”

Glenn froze when he heard the gunfire. He turned back towards the building they had just fled from.

“Come on. We got to get out of here before they come looking for us” The other men were already pulling away from him, heading into the surrounding streets. They had been unable to return to the cars, two armed men were hanging around outside, guarding the vehicles and they’d been forced to head in the opposite direction.

“Come on” the man called again “There’s no point risking yourself for a dead man”

Glenn ignored him, swallowing back the angry retort at his callous words, taking a few more steps back the way he’d come. Peering around the edge of a building he saw Daryl being pulled outside, struggling in the grip of two burly men. He noticed the blood on the hunters’ shirt and the way he was dragging his leg and realised he’d been hurt. Glenn pulled out his gun, checking the magazine. He sighed when he saw only four rounds left. Four rounds and at least eight men, this was going to be difficult. He took aim, not wanting to waste a single shot. Before his finger could tighten on the trigger his wrist was grabbed and his hand forced down.

“What the hell?” he exclaimed as he faced the man from the safe zone, Aiden. He was the leader Deanna’s son and, in his own words, a douchebag.

“You fire that and they’ll be on us like a rash” Aiden hissed, not letting go of Glenn’s arm “It’s not worth it. He’s as good as dead already”

Twisting round Glenn managed to get a satisfying punch to the mans’ face, causing him to stagger back and lose his grip. He span round raising the gun again but it was too late. The men had claimed the cars from the safe zone and, along with those they had arrived in, were already speeding out of the town. Glenn watched helplessly as a captive Daryl was driven away and there was nothing he could do about it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl meets Lawson, the leader of the men that have captured him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Scenes of torture and violence throughout.  
> Enjoy.

Chapter 2

Daryl sat in the back of the car, squashed between two burly men. He plotted quietly, running escape scenarios through his head. His shoulder ached where the bullet had grazed it and his leg was throbbing. He knew the bullet was still lodged inside and knew it would soon become a major issue if it wasn’t removed.

They pulled up alongside a large building several miles from the town, a sign over the main entrance declaring it to be a veterinary clinic. More men were milling around outside, smoking and swigging from bottles of spirits. As he was pulled from the vehicle several ambled over.

“Whatya got here?” one of them slurred, jabbing a finger into Daryl’s chest “Whose the asshole?”

“Found him in the pharmacy, part of a group from Alexandria. Jerk thought he could take us all on while the others made a run for it. Bastard killed Mickey with a bolt through the neck” The man Daryl had kneed explained, as they pushed him into the building.

“I liked Mickey, he was a good guy” the drunk was in front of them, swaying as he eyeballed Daryl.

“Think this dick needs to be taught a lesson” As the grip on him was released Daryl saw the clenched fist coming his way. He’d had years of experience with Merle in dodging drunken blows so evaded it easily. The watching group laughed as the drunken man stumbled, almost falling before he regained his balance.

“That the best you can do?” Daryl couldn’t resist goading, he knew his mouth always got him into trouble but he’d never been able to control it.

With an angry roar the drunk lurched forward, crashing into Daryl and they both tumbled to the floor. Daryl was back on his feet instantly, placing a well-aimed kick to the man's’ ribs. The crowd watching formed a circle round them, shouting encouragement to their companion as he struggled to his feet.

“Beat his ass, Grant”

“Show him what you got”

Grant swung another clumsy punch and again Daryl ducked, bringing his own fist into the man's’ jaw. He saw cigarettes exchanging hands and knew bets were being made. Grant lunged again and this time Daryl’s blow knocked him to the ground. At once Daryl dropped next to him, a knee on his chest as he rained blows on his head.

“What the hell’s going on?” A voice demanded. 

Daryl glanced up to see a bald man, a scar running down his cheek, standing in the doorway. At once the crowd fell silent and he was dragged from the semi-conscious man.

“Lawson, he’s from the Alexandria safe zone” Someone explained. Daryl saw Lawson’s eyes shift to him, coldly assessing him.

“Then I believe he and I need to have a discussion. Bring him” Lawson turned and stalked from the room.

Daryl was taken to a room that was obviously the veterinarian's office. There was a small desk with chairs arranged around it but the bulk of the room was taken up by the examination table. Trays of surgical instruments were laid out on a counter, the metal blades gleaming in the soft light from the window.

He pulled his glance away from the implements, instead focusing on the bald man in front of him. At the leader's instruction he was shoved into one of the chairs.

“You cooperate with me and you’ll be fine. Otherwise…..” Lawson let his eyes drift to the trays on the counter. He didn’t need to finish the sentence, the threat was obvious. He leaned closer.

“Tell me about Alexandria, how many people are there, what are their strengths, what are their weaknesses?”

Daryl felt no loyalty to the original inhabitants of the safe zone, they’d done nothing but make him feel unwelcome and uncomfortable since the group had arrived a few days before. The only reason for silence was the fact that his friends were in there and he would do nothing that would risk their safety.

“Aint telling you shit” he mumbled.

Lawson sat back with a sigh.

“I guessed as much” he glanced at Daryl’s blood soaked pants. “That looks like it needs treatment. Let’s see what we can do” he nodded to the men standing behind Daryl’s chair. With sick grins they reached for him. 

Daryl jumped to his feet, managing to get several blows in before he was overpowered. His back was slammed down onto the examination table, two men pinning his arms, two more holding his legs, keeping him trapped. Lawson moved to his side, studying him as he struggled and twisted, trying to get free.

Finally, after several long seconds, Lawson reached out. He gripped the torn fabric either side of the bullet hole and ripped it open, exposing the injury.

“No exit wound, looks like the bullets still in there” he commented. “Let’s see if we can find it” He jabbed his finger into the wound, twisting it as he dug deeper. Daryl ground his teeth together, determined not to make a sound even though the pain was excruciating. 

“Found it” Lawson gave a triumphant smile as he leant forward, applying pressure on the lodged bullet, forcing it further into Daryl’s leg, before finally removing his hand. He studied the trays of instruments for a while eventually selecting an oversized pair of forceps.

With a twisted grin he plunged the forceps into the hole in Daryl’s leg, brutally forcing the point deep into the wound opening it up even more, before using the forceps to grip the bullet. Roughly he yanked it out, letting it drop to the floor with a clatter.

Daryl’s jaw ached from keeping his mouth clamped shut and he could feel the sweat beading on his forehead as he fought to control his breathing. His leg felt like it was on fire and he could feel the blood seeping from it. He gulped in deep breathes of air as the men restraining him laughed, enjoying his torment.

Lawson turned to him again, a plastic bottle in his hands.

“It seems we’re all out of antiseptic and good practice says we should clean the wound” he said softly as he removed the cap from the container. 

“This should do the job, it does say it kills all germs” He tilted the bottle, allowing the contents to drizzle onto the open wound. Daryl couldn’t help the moan of pain as the liquid burnt into his damaged flesh. He caught a glimpse of the label, recognising the familiar Clorox bleach logo as Lawson upended the rest of the contents, making sure as much as possible went into the sensitive wound.

Throwing the now empty bottle to one side he nodded to his men and they shoved Daryl back into the chair.

“Maybe you would like to rethink your response to my questions now” he enquired politely.

Daryl raised his head slowly, meeting Lawson’s eyes.

“Go t’hell” he snarled.

“Wrong answer again” Lawson smiled “You really haven’t got the rules of this game yet”

He instructed his men to bring Daryl and lead the way to the back of the clinic. Through a rear exit was a small yard, enclosed by tall wire fence. A few walkers were milling around and a couple of the men used metal pipes to stab them in the head.

“I think it time he met Clive” 

Lawson smiled as a ripple of laughter ran through the assembled group.

Daryl was shoved into the centre of the yard, struggling to stay upright on his injured leg. Warily he watched as they formed a circle around him, expectant grins on their faces.

“What kinda pussy name is Clive anyway?” He demanded, full of false bravado.

The laughter grew as Clive appeared in the doorway. The man was built like a quarterback, over six feet tall, his broad shoulders filling the doorway as he smirked at Daryl. 

“Not even gonna break a sweat with this one” he quipped as he approached the centre of the circle.

Daryl readied himself, from experience he knew that usually the bigger the man the less agile he was. He could only hope this was the case with Clive.

Unfortunately it wasn’t, Clive was fast and strong. He took full advantage of Daryl’s injuries, punching the graze on his shoulder and kicking out at his leg, causing the exhausted hunter to stumble, falling onto his knees. 

Daryl was fighting with everything he had but the three weeks since leaving Atlanta and losing Beth had been hard. They had all been dehydrated and near starvation when Aaron had found them and lead them to Alexandria. The few days they had spent in the safe zone hadn’t been enough to fully recover whereas Clive was obviously well fed. The size of his muscles showed he certainly wasn’t going short of protein and Daryl found himself wondering if the huge man even bothered to cook the meat first or if he just ripped whatever carcass it was apart and chowed down on it raw.

A vicious blow to the head bought him back to reality. He knew he was losing this fight and losing badly. A punch in the stomach knocked him to the ground again. At once Clive was on him, landing blow after blow. Desperately he tried to hold the muscular man off him. His hands grasped helplessly at Clive’s shirt, trying to pull him away.

Laughing, Clive batted his hands away.

“So damn easy it’s no fun” he sneered, as his hands circled Daryl’s throat, tightening slowly. Daryl clawed at the ground, frantically searching for something, anything, he could use as a weapon. His fingers touched something cold and metal and he grabbed at it. As he swung it towards Clive’s head he realised it was one of the metal pipes the men had used to kill the walkers at the fence.

The pipe made contact with a sickening thud. Clive looked surprised for a second then slowly toppled over, his hands sliding from Daryl’s neck as he landed on his side, blood pooling under his head.

There was silence in the yard for a few seconds, then a flurry of curses and yells. Lawson knelt next to Clive, rolling him over and checking for a pulse.

“He’s dead” he declared slowly standing and facing Daryl, who had dragged himself to his feet. Daryl edged away from the advancing men until his back hit the fence and he could go no further. 

“Bring him here” Lawson ordered, indicating a picnic table and benches in the corner of the yard. It took four men but soon Daryl was shoved against the table. He was forced forward, a strong hand in the middle of his back pinning him down, chest first against the table top. Another hand gripped his head, pressing his cheek against the rough wooden surface. He saw Lawson in conversation with one of the others, the man grinning as he looked at Daryl. 

“We’re gonna show you just who’s in charge here” The man approached Daryl, standing next to him as his hands reached for his buckle. Daryl’s breath hitched in his throat and his eyes widened as the man slowly undid his belt and pulled it free from his pants. In his mind he was suddenly a small child again, watching helplessly as his drunken father removed his belt, preparing to punish him for some imagined misdemeanour, some small childish error. As he struggled to break free, the pressure on his back increased, pressing him closer to the table. He suddenly became aware that there were worse things than a beating that could happen. He knew he could take the pain of a thrashing but the thought of the other option was more than he could cope with. Frantically he began to twist and squirm, desperate to escape. More hands pinned him down as he cursed and fought.

Lawson watched as the prisoner tried to throw of those restraining him. He saw the panic on his face and realised out what he was thinking.

With a laugh he stepped forward, leaning down until his face was close to Daryl’s.

“Don’t flatter yourself, we’re not that desperate” he whispered. His hand shot out and gripped Daryl’s arm, forcing it above the hunter's head, laying it flat on the table.

“Strap it down” he ordered. The belt was looped around one of the planks making up the table top and then around Daryl’s wrist, the end threaded back through the buckle and then pulled tight, holding Daryl’s arm in place. 

Lawson smiled down at him as he raised the metal pipe he’d used to kill Clive. He swung it down hard and it smashed into Daryl’s imprisoned hand. 

The pain was unbelievable as he felt the small bones in the back of his hand shatter. Lawson reached down and forced his clenched fist open before bring the pipe down a second time. This time the impact was on his fingers and he knew at least two of them had been broken. The third blow was agony and he couldn’t hold in the scream of pain. Spots danced before his eyes and he struggled to stay conscious.  
His arm was freed from the restraint and the pressure on his back removed. He lay there for a few seconds, trying to regain control of his shaking body. He heard Lawson issuing orders as he was dragged to his feet. He avoided looking at his mangled hand as he pulled it to his chest, cradling it there with his uninjured one. He caught sight of movement to his side but before he could move something heavy smacked into his head and he went down. He tried to protect himself from the kicks and blows that rained down on him but there were too many. It wasn’t long before he could take no more and let unconsciousness take him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lawson tries to make a deal with Alexandria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the wonderful people who have left comments and kudos for this story, you are all wonderful and I really appreciate it.  
> More suffering I'm afraid.

Daryl awoke with a jolt, instinctively trying to lurch to his feet. He cursed when his head made contact with a hard surface and slumped back down. He lay still for a few moments, hoping the pain radiating through his body would pass. It didn’t. Carefully he tried to stretched his cramped legs but found he was unable to extend them fully. He realised he was locked in a small cage, probably used for containing a large dog, back when the building had been a working clinic. There was barely room to move and he shifted awkwardly, trying to find a more comfortable position.

He was cold and realised his leather, angel wing vest was gone as were his boots. Heavy manacles were locked around his ankles, another set around his wrists, a heavy chain linking the two sets of restraints. He found himself wondering where the hell the assholes had found such primitive items and why they found the need to keep them.

He risked a look at his injured leg. The open wound was red and angry looking, the skin around it burnt and blistered from the bleach, the only good thing being there was no sign of any infection. Bracing himself he turned his attention to his damaged hand. Fighting back nausea at the sight of the mangled mess he tried and failed to move his fingers. His middle and ring fingers were twisted and swollen, his little finger bruised and sore. The back of his hand was a disaster, the skin broken, a wide gash still bleeding lightly, he was sure he could see the white of bone through the pulpy flesh. A mass of black and purple bruises spread along his hand towards his arm, making it impossible to move his wrist. Carefully he managed to pull the red bandana from his back pocket and clumsily wrap it over the injury, using his other hand and teeth to tie it off.

There was a small window set high in the wall opposite the cage and he could see it was dark outside, he guessed he’d been out for several hours. He hoped that Glenn and the others had made it back to the safe zone safely and that they wouldn’t risk themselves coming after him, although he admitted to himself a small part hoped they did. 

He shifted again, trying to kick out at the cage door, testing its strength. The padlocked door stayed firm and all he succeeded in doing was hurting his bare feet. He was about to try again when the door to the small room opened and a man he’d heard Lawson call Russ wandered in.

“’Bout time you woke up, you thirsty?” Russ drawled, holding up a bottle of water. 

Daryl nodded, he didn’t want to take anything from these assholes but his mouth was dry and he could taste his own blood from the various blows he’d received. 

“Thought as much” Russ opened the bottle, taking a few steps towards the cage. 

“Too bad we don’t have any water to spare” he lifted the bottle to his lips and drank deeply, allowing some to dribble down his chin before placing the half empty bottle on a table just out of Daryl’s reach.

“Got a big day tomorrow, best you get some sleep now” he grinned as he closed the door behind him, leaving Daryl alone again.

He slept fitfully, in too much discomfort to relax properly. When the door opened again he pulled himself as upright as possible in the confined space. Russ and Lawson entered, two men he’d not seen before behind them.

“Are you ready to talk to us about Alexandria now?” Lawson asked as he stood in front of the cage. 

“Already said not tellin’ you nothin’” Daryl rasped through chapped, dry lips. 

Lawson stepped to the side and Russ produced a key, unlocking the padlock. The two men dragged Daryl out, hurling him to his feet in front of their leader.

“I really hoped you would have reconsidered by now” Lawson said sadly “I really don’t want to hurt you again but you leave me no choice”

He was forced outside again, this time thrown onto his back on the picnic table. The chain linking his wrists and ankles was removed and his manacled arms were yanked over his head, the length of chain now used to attach them to the table legs. 

“Russ tells me you were thirsty last night so I thought you’d like some water” Lawson reached down and pulled a soaked cloth from a bucket at his feet. Daryl tried to twist his head to the side but his hair was seized, hands brutally restricting his movements as the wet material was draped over his mouth and nose. He could feel the water already dribbling down his throat as he tried to gulp in air. Scooping the cold liquid into a jug Lawson carefully began to pour it over the cloth. The waterlogged fabric was no barrier and soon the water was soaking through, filling Daryl’s mouth and nose, clogging his throat. He tried to swallow but there was too much and he began to choke. He was fighting to breathe when Lawson stopped pouring and pulled the cloth from his face. The hand released his head and he turned his face, coughing up fluid as he tried to clear his lungs.

“You quenched your thirst yet?” Lawson was poised with the rag again.

Daryl took a couple of deep breaths.

“Screw you” he managed as the cloth descended and the punishment began again. Lawson repeated the process three more times. Daryl’s lungs were burning and he was barely conscious when the man decided that was enough. He had Daryl freed from the table and dragged to the fence. The length of chain was used to fasten him one of the supports, his arms pulled over his head. His legs couldn’t support him and he hung limply, all his weight on his arms. His injured hand became a whole new level of agony as the edge of the manacle dug into the wound. 

“Leave him for a couple of hours. See if that breaks him” Lawson instructed as they left him alone in the small yard.

Daryl came round to find something tugging at the back of his shirt, his confused mind told him it was Carol, she always clung to his shirt when she rode behind him on the bike, thinking he wouldn’t be comfortable with her arms around his waist. He’d never had the balls enough to tell her he wouldn’t have minded, that he trusted her, that she was his friend.

A guttural growl and a waft of decay bought him back. He remembered the bike was lost months ago, along with the prison, Carol wasn’t lost, but she was safely back in Alexandria with the others, she certainly wasn’t here. He managed to lurch forward enough for the walkers grip on his shirt to fall away. There wasn’t enough slack on the chain for him to go far, was just a couple of inches between him and the reaching walker. It clawed at him frantically trying to reach through the fence, trying to force its rotting arm through the wire. Another joined it, then a third. All he wanted to do was lie down and sleep but Daryl knew he had to stay on his feet. If he passed out he would fall against the fence and the walkers would reach him, sinking their teeth and claws into his flesh. He lost track of how long he spent forcing himself to stay upright. 

“Made some new friends I see” Lawson was suddenly next to him, nodding at the walkers. “I think it’s time we paid a visit to your old ones, see if we can come to some arrangement”

He was unchained from the fence and, as he was unable to walk, dragged inelegantly to the front of the building and hurled like garbage into the back of a pick-up.

He opened his eyes again as he was pulled from the truck, finding himself surrounded by Lawson’s men and catching a glimpse of a familiar set of gates, people staring from the top of the fence, Rick’s now clean shaven face among them. They were watching in concern as the small convoy of vehicles pulled up on the road, several feet from the entrance.

Lawson stepped out from the lead car, his empty hands held wide as he smiled up.

“I’ve come to make a deal with you” he declared

“What kind of deal?” Deanna, the leader asked, her voice confident, not betraying the nervousness she felt at being confronted by a large group of armed men.

“I want you to open your gates and let us in” Lawson told her, the smile not leaving his face.

“Now why would I do that?” the woman asked, her confusion obvious at the request.

“You let us in, we take what we want before we leave and in return…” he turned and indicated behind him.

Daryl tried to stand tall, he tried to walk by himself but his body betrayed him and he stumbled forward, only the tight grip on his arms stopping him hitting the ground, as he was pushed toward the gates.

“In return we give you your friend back with no further damage. You don’t let us in then we take him with us and I can’t guarantee his health for much longer” Lawson explained.

Daryl managed to lift his head, his gaze met Rick’s horrified expression. He saw his friend turn to Deanna, speaking quickly. He saw the woman shaking her head, saw her eyes fall on him, full of regret and sadness. He knew what was going to happen. She wouldn’t, couldn’t, risk the whole town just for him. He wouldn’t want her too.

“No” the woman stood tall as she stared down at Lawson “I will not open this town to you and your men, not at any cost” She met Daryl’s eyes, her own shining as she fought her emotions,

“I’m sorry” she said simply.

He nodded to her, letting her know he understood and didn’t blame her. He couldn’t look at Rick again but heard the Sheriff’s protests as he was roughly pulled away. When he resisted , a blow to the small of his back bought him to his knees and he let them drag him back to the pick-up. The last thing he heard before a kick in the head sent him under was Lawson’s voice.  
“I hope you sleep easy tonight knowing you have just condemned him to a long and painful death”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, please let me know what you think. Next chapter up in a day or two.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl makes an escape attempt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks once again to all those who left kudos on the last chapter.  
> Read and enjoy.

Daryl lay silently in the bed of the pick-up, he’d regained consciousness a while ago, but willed himself to stay still. He was on his own now, it was down to him to get himself out of this situation. The vehicles pulled up outside the clinic and he heard Lawson angrily demand that his men prepare to attack the town.

“We offered them an easy option, they refused, now we do it the hard way. We take it by force and don’t leave any survivors” he ranted.

“What about the asshole in the truck” Russ asked.

“String him up outside again, we’ll deal with him later” Lawson strode into the building.

Daryl tensed as two men approached, staying limp as they grabbed his legs and pulled him to the edge of the truck bed.

“Heavy son of a bitch” one of them grunted as they took his weight. Moving faster than they could have expected Daryl’s uninjured hand flashed out and he grabbed the knife from the closest man’s belt, driving it into his stomach. As he fell, clutching his gut, Daryl lashed out again, the knife catching the second man in the throat. Quickly he bent and used the point of the blade to force open the shackles around his ankles. A third man rounded the truck, yelling in surprise when he caught sight of the scene. Daryl swung the heavy manacles, the cuff catching the man in the face and he fell backwards.

He turned and ran for it, heading into the nearest trees, hoping to lose them in the forest. His still manacled hands, the gunshot wound in his leg and his bare feet slowed him a lot and it wasn’t long before he heard the sounds of pursuit and knew they were gaining on him. He weaved his way through the undergrowth trying not to leave a trail, hugging his injured arm close to his chest. When he came to a narrow creek he waded into it, using the water to cover his tracks. The sharp stones in the creek bed cut into his feet and he repeatedly stumbled and tripped. The various beatings he’d received in the last few days had left his chest and ribs bruised and his breathing was harsh as he struggled on. He paused, listening for any sounds behind him. There was nothing and he began to hope he’d lost them. He had only taken a few more steps when a dead weight crashed into him, sending him face first into the flowing water.

“You think you’re the only one knows your way round a forest, jackass?” The grip on the back of his neck was unforgiving as his head was forced under the water. He thrashed around, trying to shake the weight off his back but it was no good. He suddenly figured this was probably for the best, at least it would be over, they wouldn’t be able to hurt him anymore or use him to try to get to those in Alexandria. He stopped fighting and let his body relax, a feeling of calm drifting over him.

Suddenly the weight was gone and he was wrenched backwards out of the stream, his lungs involuntarily gulping in great gasps of air. A fist slammed into his face and he was thrown backwards into the water again.

A man with a cut and bruised face was standing over him, the discarded manacles dangling from his hand.

“Think you lost something” he taunted as he reached down to restrain Daryl’s ankles again. Still on his back in the creek Daryl managed to kick out and knock the man back, ignoring the pain in his bleeding, cut feet, before scrambling to his feet. He saw he was surrounded by four men and resigned himself to another beating. They approached him cautiously but instead of laying into him they caught hold of his arms and held him still. The bruised man picked up the manacles again, gripping the chain in both hands. Before Daryl could move the man was behind him, slipping the chain over his head and against his throat. He leaned back, applying pressure and Daryl felt the chain tightening against his windpipe, cutting off the flow of air. He clawed at it, trying to get some slack but it was no good, the grip was too strong. The edges of his vision started to go black and his knees buckled.

“That’s enough Lloyd, you know Lawson wants him alive for now” The voice was distant, but firm and the pressure on his throat was removed. As his arms were freed he fell forward onto his hands and knees. A kick in the side knocked him onto his back and he felt the restraints being replaced.

“Get up!” a voice demanded, a tight grip in his hair pulling his head back. When he didn’t move fast enough he was hauled violently upright.

“Move your sorry ass, we aint carrying you back” a shove in his back made him stumble to his knees again.

“Son of a bitch!” The voice exclaimed as he was pulled up once more. This time they kept hold on him and he was manhandled back to the clinic.

Lawson was waiting, arms folded across his chest, a neutral expression on his face.

“I had decided to be merciful, a bullet to the head, quick and easy, but now, now you’ve killed two of my friends, hurt another. Suddenly I don’t feel so generous” his voice was cold, and Daryl suddenly felt very nervous about what was coming.

He was taken to the office and, once again, forced on his back on the examination table. He was held in place as Lawson studied the surgical tools, occasionally picking one up for more consideration. 

“My father was a veterinarian” he started conversationally, “In fact this was his clinic. He wanted me to take over the family business, but I hated that son of a bitch so I refused. I left home at 16, bummed around the country, doing odd jobs when I needed some cash. It wasn’t a good life but it really pissed the old man off”

Daryl glared at him.

“You want me to feel sorry for you, that why you turned out to be such an asshole, daddy issues?” he taunted, his uncontrollable mouth off again.

Lawson smiled at him.

“I just want you to understand that I know exactly what each of these tools is used for” he picked up a pair of long bladed pliers, holding them in front of Daryl’s face.

“These are for extracting a dog's teeth, I guess they’ll work just as well on a man” He replaced the pliers and picked up a wicked looking item. It was a cross between forceps and pliers, curved blades overlapping each other a large spring joining them.

“This is called an emasculator, I’m sure you can imagine what that does” the men restraining Daryl gave amused groans, one of them instinctively crossing his legs, causing laughter from the others.

To Daryl’s immense relief Lawson laid it back in the tray, settling instead on a thin bladed scalpel.

“For now I’m going to stick with something a bit more basic” He pulled a lighter from his pocket and heated the sharp blade. At his nod Daryl’s shirt was ripped open, exposing his chest. 

Lawson peered at the scars there.

“Old injuries, looks like maybe I’m not the only one with daddy issues” he commented as he sliced the now hot blade lightly across Daryl’s chest, barely marking it. The second swipe was firmer, this time drawing a little blood. Each successive cut was harder and deeper, the blade repeatedly heated between slashes.

“Don’t want you bleeding out now do we?” Lawson used the hot metal to cauterise each cut, preventing too much blood loss.

Daryl refused to react, not wanting to give the man the satisfaction of any sign of weakness. He lay silently, allowing his mind to drift to happier thoughts. He thought about Judith, remembering the sounds of her giggles and how she smiled up at him. He thought of Beth, and how they nearly had the chance of happiness in the funeral home, before she was taken, before her goodness was snuffed out at the hospital. He remembered how it felt when Rick told him he was his brother, that feeling of acceptance, of finally being part of a family. He felt the relief of knowing that his family was safe, behind the high fences of Alexandria. He would die knowing they were okay.

“We’re ready” He was pulled back to the present by a voice in the doorway. Lawson dropped the scalpel to the table.

“You’ve got the hooks attached to the biggest truck?, loaded all the weapons?” he questioned.

His questioned were confirmed and he had Daryl pulled from the table.

“We’re going to leave you here while we go and take Alexandria. They were given a chance to let us take what we wanted and leave, they declined, now we’re going to take it all and we won’t leave any survivors”

“No!” Daryl couldn’t hold back the distressed cry, he fought frantically in the grip of his captors as they wrestled him back toward the cage. The last thing he heard before they forced him into the cage was Lawson’s mocking laughter.

They left him alone, he was cold and hurt, hungry and thirsty but that was nothing compared to the pain he was going through at the thought of his friends, his family in danger. He squirmed around in the tiny cage, trying to turn, trying to reach the padlocked door but all he succeeded in doing was opening up the cuts on his chest and increasing the agony in his hand. The bandana he’d tied over it was long gone and he could see the redness of infection. The wound smelt bad and a cloudy liquid was leaking from the partially healed scab. Finally he sank back, fighting tears of frustration, anger and fear. He’d never felt so helpless in his life, not even when his father was beating him bloody with his belt, telling him over and over he was a useless waste of space. He finally let go, sobs tearing through his body as he thought how he’d let them down. He hadn’t protected them from the Governor, he’d lost Beth and now the rest would soon be dead. Rick and the other were tough, but they would be heavily outnumbered and the original members of the gated community had shown no sign of being able to protect themselves. It would be a massacre.

He huddled there, arms wrapped around his knees as he waited for the men to return. Through the small window he watched as night fell, then morning came. It was beginning to get dark again when he heard the vehicles return. The men crashed into the building, pumped up on adrenalin, shouting and laughing as they compared notes, taking tally of who had killed the most people or who had the most interesting find.

Finally two men came for him, he was unresisting as they dragged him from the cage, pushing him down corridors and into a large open area. A large number of men were there, pouring through their spoils. Five women were huddled together, most of them weeping softly. A sixth stood to one side, alone, her eyes angry.

He was pushed into a chair as Lawson approached him.

“We tore down the gates, they were defenceless, no idea how to fight. We took what we wanted, torched the town and killed the survivors” he glanced at the frightened women “well most of them, we let the pretty ones live, those that didn’t fight back”

Daryl’s eyes searched the group of women, he was both relieved and distressed not to see a familiar face. There was no Maggie, Carol or Tara, no sign of Rosita, Michonne or Sasha. He consoled himself with the thought that they were better off dead than in the hands of this group. He didn’t want to think what was going to happen to those that were here.

Lawson wandered over to the women, taking his time to study each one, looking them over in the way a farmer might regard livestock. Finally he stopped in front of the woman on her own, the only one that didn’t seem afraid.

“This one was a bonus” he told Daryl “We found her on the way home in a broken down car. She wasn’t very grateful for the assistance was she Georgie?”

One of the men turned at the sound of his name and Daryl could see several scratches running down his cheek.

“Someone needs to teach her some manners” he muttered, shooting evil looks at her.

Daryl almost laughed when the woman drew herself up and smiled at Georgie.

“You think you’ve got the balls to try?” she asked sweetly. At once he advanced on her, his fist raised but Lawson stopped him.

“Not tonight” he told the smaller man “I like this one, she’s got spirit. A couple of you take her to my room, then you can decide what you want with the others.” He glanced at Daryl “and you can do what you want with him tonight, just don’t kill him yet”  
Daryl rose from the chair as the men surrounded him, he had nothing left to live for so he didn’t bother to resist this time as they advanced on him and his ordeal began all over again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lawson and his men celebrate the attack on Alexandria and fight over the spoils.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to all who have left kudos and commented on this work so far, I really do appreciate it.
> 
> Hope you like this chapter, I wrote it well over a year ago and don't read the graphic novels. Lawson's use of another villian's trademark weapon is purely coincidental as I didn't even know Negan existed back then. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think and ignore note at end, for some reason it won't go away, even if I try to add a different one. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.  
> xx

When they came for him the next morning Daryl dragged himself out of the cage before they could grab him, he’d had enough of being manhandled. The previous night had been the worse yet. The gang had taken turns in using him as a punch bag. When he’d barely been able to stand some had lost interest, instead turning their attention to the kidnapped women from the safe zone. Daryl didn’t know these women, he’d made no attempt to talk to any of them and they hadn’t been particularly friendly towards him but he wasn’t able to sit back and watch what he knew was going to happen.

He’d pulled himself up to his full height and started goading the men, insulting their masculinity, telling them they were only going after the women because they were too pussy to take him on. A couple had been dumb enough to fall for it and returned to tormenting him. Eventually they’d left him in a crumpled, battered heap on the floor. A fight had broken out between two of the men over one of the women, a pretty blonde, and the others had gathered round, jeering and laughing as the men pummelled into each other. 

Daryl had noticed a rifle leaning against a table, it’s drunken owner preoccupied with the brawl. Slowly he’d used the back of a chair to pull himself to his feet, easing carefully towards the weapon. His fingers had just closed over the barrel when he was spotted. At once he became the centre of attention again.

When they’d finished with him he’d been shoved into the cage and left alone. Every bit of him hurt and he knew he wouldn’t be able to take much more. He hadn’t eaten in days and the only water he’d had was when it was being forced down his throat, through the cloth over his face. He was no longer sure how long he had been held captive, days and nights merged into one long blur of agony. Hearing Alexandria had been destroyed and everyone killed took the last of the fight out of him. He welcomed death now and decided he would do what he could to hurry it up.

Lawson was waiting for him in the office, pacing the room in an obvious fury. Daryl didn’t bother hiding the grin when he saw the man’s face. There were long scratches from eyeball to cheek on one side and his top lip was swollen and cut.

“Guess your night didn’t go as planned” he quipped, remembering the woman’s feisty attitude as she was taken to Lawson’s quarters. 

With a snarl Lawson lashed out, the back of his hand striking Daryl’s cheek, snapping his head sideways.

Daryl laughed in his face, as he spat blood at the irate man’s feet.

“Looks like you got yer ass kicked by a girl” Daryl continued to goad, hoping to provoke enough anger to get a bullet in the head.

Instead Lawson took a deep breath and straightened his back as the woman was shoved into the room, her hands bound behind her. Daryl saw the bruise on her jaw and the blood matted in her hair as she was forced into one of the chairs.

“I’m going to show you what happens when you disobey me, or harm one of my friends” he told her as she continued to glare defiantly at him. 

“He tried to take a weapon with the intention of using it on my colleagues, now he’s going to pay” Lawson had Daryl pushed face down on the examination table again and his hands pulled over his head. His wrists were gripped firmly as Lawson approached, the baseball bat he’d picked up from the desk, swinging loosely from one hand. He gripped it in both hands and raised it high, suddenly swinging it down against the small of Daryl’s back. He laughed out loud at the howl of pain he’d caused and swung it again, this time making contact with Daryl’s arm, just below the elbow. The crack of breaking bone was loud in the otherwise silent room. Daryl couldn’t hold back the scream as the bat smashed into his arm for a second time. He twisted in the grip of the men, trying to break free, his survival instinct kicking in against his will. He saw the woman watching, saw a brief look of sympathy in her eyes before she turned away unable to watch. The bat slammed into him twice more, both times making him cry out.

Finally Lawson stopped, panting as he stood to one side.

“I’m bored of you now” he declared “I think it’s time to finish this” He touched the bat to the back of Daryl’s head as if lining the next swing up. Daryl closed his eyes, willing himself to relax as he waited for the killing blow.

Just as Lawson was about to raise the bat a yell from outside stopped him.

“Lawson, need you out here now!” 

With a sigh he dropped the bat.

“Put him back in the cage, I want to be able to enjoy this” He glanced at the semi-conscious man as he was dragged away.

“Don’t worry I won’t keep you waiting long” With a final glare at the woman, and the order she was locked in his quarters again, he left the room.

Daryl dragged himself to the furthest corner of the cage and curled into the smallest space he could, disappointment rushing through him. He’d been so close, so close to the end of his suffering. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

The distant sound of gunfire made him raise his head, glancing hopefully towards the door, before slumping down once more, all strength gone.

Rick stormed through the building, Glenn and Abraham by his side, firing indiscriminately at anything that moved. He saw Michonne, katana flashing as she decapitated a man in a leather vest. As he fell he saw a flash of familiar angel wings on his back. Michonne noticed as well and ripped the stolen vest from the man’s body.

“He’s going to want that back” she said, confident they were going to find their friend alive.

They worked their way deeper into the building, showing no mercy to the occupants they found there. A sudden shot behind him had Rick spinning round. He saw a body on the floor and a man lowering a rifle. He gave a quick nod of thanks, relieved now they had trusted the other group they had met on the road. 

After leaving the safe zone when they refused to help Daryl, the group had come across Brett and his companions as they searched for his missing sister. She had gone on a run, alone and against his wishes, and not returned. They had found her car, broken down on the side of the road, signs of a struggle nearby. The two leaders figured there was a good chance they were looking for the same people and had decided to join forces.

Michonne and Glenn had been out every day since Daryl’s abduction, searching for any sign of him. Michonne because she was the next best tracker, Glenn because he felt guilt at leaving Daryl to the mercy of the gang. They had returned to the town where it had all began and worked from there. Eventually they had struck lucky, spending the night in a house miles from the town they had heard engines. A convoy of cars had passed and they’d rushed to follow it. One look at the men milling around outside the veterinary clinic and they knew they’d found the right place. It was only later they realised the men were returning from destroying Alexandria.

Now they were attacking, determined to find those they had lost. Brett found his sister Jemma bruised and angry, but otherwise unharmed, locked in a room.

“They’ve got others here” she told them “We’re not leaving them behind” 

Jemma jumped and raised the gun Brett had given her at an unfamiliar voice behind her.

“Where are the others?” the clean shaven stranger demanded, others she didn’t recognise behind him, concern and hope written all over their faces.

“It’s okay Jemma” Brett reassured her “Rick and his people are friends, they’re looking for one of their own. They helped us find you”

“They have women in a shed out the back and a man in one of the side rooms, just off the examination room” she told them.

Rick sent Maggie, Glenn and Abraham, along with two of Brett’s colleagues, to find and free the women. Jemma lead him, Carol and Michonne to the office. The others continued to sweep the building, making sure they had found everyone.

As Rick reached for the door handle to the small room Jemma had guided them to, she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“He was in a pretty bad way when they took him back there. It might be an idea to take this” she handed him a long bladed knife, taken from one of the bodies. “Just in case"  
Rick met her eyes and gave a brief nod, taking the knife and praying he didn’t need it. With a deep breath he braced himself and opened the door.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and the others find Daryl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to AbyssWalker for the comments and thanks to those who left kudos on the last chapter. I hope you like this one, sorry it's a little shorter than the others but next chapter will be up very soon.

Throughout his life, both as a cop and since the dead began to walk Rick had seen many terrible things. He knew the evil one man could inflict on another but nothing had prepared him for the sight that met his eyes when he entered the small room.

Daryl, his friend, his brother, was curled on his side in a cage barely big enough to move in. Rick could see the manacles on his wrists and ankles, the skin beneath the cuffs raw and bleeding. His arms were cradled to his chest, one hand swollen and bleeding, the fingers twisted and useless. His clothes weren’t much more than filthy rags hanging from his body and every part of him that Rick could see was either bruised or cut. He moved closer and saw the small circular marks on the motionless man’s arms and torso, marks he knew were caused by a burning cigarette.

A sharp intake of breath behind him made him turn and he found himself face to face with Carol, a hand over her mouth, her eyes already filling with tears she made no attempt to hide.

“Is he….?” Her voice broke before she could finish.

“I don’t know yet” Rick put his hands on her shoulder, gently turning her and guiding her from the room.

“I think it’s best if you stay out here” he told her quietly. “Stop anyone else coming in while I check him over. You know he wouldn’t want anyone to see him like this”

Reluctantly Carol agreed, waiting with Michonne while Jemma went to find water and whatever medical supplies were available.

Rick closed the door behind him, approaching the cage.

“Daryl” he called softly “Daryl, it’s Rick, can you hear me?”

There was no reply as he knelt by cage door, examining the padlock.

A groan made him look up, Daryl’s uninjured hand was twitching, the fingers forming a claw as he groaned again, a harsh, guttural sound

Ricks blood ran cold as his grip tightened on the knife. He felt tears prickle the back of his eyes and blinked them away. They were too late, they’d taken too long to find him, they’d let him down and now there was only one thing left to do.

Anger and frustration swept through him as he used the butt of his rifle to smash the padlock, hitting it repeatedly until it shattered. He would get Daryl from the cage, set him free from his restraints and do what was necessary, he owed him that much.

Ripping open the cage door Rick reached inside, not sure how he was going to get Daryl out. As Rick gripped hold of his pants leg Daryl rolled over and lurched forward, his arm flailing towards Rick as he tried to sit. At once Rick fell back, raising the knife defensively. 

Daryl slumped forward again, half out of the cage. He lifted his head, turning his face towards his friend.

“Rick” 

It was barely a whisper, weak and raspy but it was enough. Dropping the knife Rick lunged towards Daryl, embracing his limp form against his chest, this time not holding the tears back.

“It’s gonna be alright, you’re gonna be okay” he choked the words out, relief flowing through him. Gently he pulled Daryl completely free from the cage, mindful of his injuries as he laid him on his back. Using the knife he prised open the manacles, throwing them to one side. He brushed the hair from Daryl’s damaged face, feeling the fury build as he saw the full extent of the damage inflicted on him.

Daryl’s eyes suddenly opened and he stared up at Rick, managing a small smirk, even though it hurt.

“What kept yer?” he quipped.

Rick couldn’t help the bubble of laughter as looked down at the broken figure in front of him.

“You’re gonna have to stop doing this sacrificing yourself for others thing, it’s getting boring now and makes the rest of us look bad” he scolded as he tried to assess the injuries. He wasn’t even sure where to start.

Jemma slipped through the door clutching several bottles of water and a first aid kit.

“I figured you’d need some help and it would be easier for me as I don’t know him” she set the items down and dropped to her knees beside the two men.

“I was with the rest of the women for a while, they told me he goaded the assholes into coming back to him instead of taking them. That’s when he got most of the burns. They’d already kicked the crap out of him. He went for a gun and then they really laid into him. The broken arm was this morning, just before you arrived. I don’t know about everything else” Jemma filled Rick in as she wetted a rag and began to try and clean some of the blood and dirt off. The cleaner he became the more apparent the injuries were.

Jemma shook her head, “This is more than we can deal with. Brett told me you don’t have a base. You’ll have to come back to ours. We have a doctor who used to work in ER in a hospital in Orlando. He’ll know how to deal with things like this” she indicated Daryl’s mangled, clearly infected hand.

Rick hesitated, he didn’t know these people but he knew he had no choice, they needed help.

At his nod Jemma rose, 

“Do what you can to get him ready to move, I’ll tell Brett and find a vehicle. We’ll head straight off, leave the others to finish up here” she left the room at a run as Rick did what he could to make Daryl comfortable to travel.

With Abraham and Glenn’s help Rick managed to get Daryl into the back of the pick-up Lawson had used for the trip to Alexandria. Carol and Maggie had found every blanket they could, padding the cold metal truck bed before he was gently laid out. Carol insisted on coming and crawled next to him, cushioning his head on her lap. Jemma climbed into the driver’s seat, speaking quickly to Brett before he strode back into the building.

“Everything okay?” Rick questioned, still wary about trusting this new group.

“Just tellin’ him I checked all the bodies and the survivors, the asshole leader, Lawson and his right hand man, Russ aren’t here. Somehow they got out. Tell your people to take care, they’re nasty sons of bitches” Jemma warned him.

Rick returned to the clinic, Brett was there, his men watching over a small group of restrained men.

“We got about six survivors, they surrendered. What should we do with them?” he was unsure as he watched Rick.

Rick studied the now captive men, a cold look in his eyes. On the other side of the room he saw Michonne and Glenn comforting the woman taken from Alexandria, they were bruised and tearful, their clothes torn as they huddled together. He thought of Daryl and what he’d been through and what had almost happened to Jemma.

“I’d kill them” he said “a bullet in the head is all they deserve for what they did. We let them go, they’ll do it again to others. They may even come after us, looking for payback” He waited for Brett to disagree but to his surprise he nodded.

“We’re on the same page then” He drew his gun and checked the magazine.

“You get your man back to camp, we’ll deal with this, collect what we can use and see you back there” Brett turned towards the now cowering men.

Rick heard the first shot before he’d even got back to the truck.  
He climbed next to Carol and banged on the roof of the cab. Jemma pulled away and they set off, towards what he hoped was safety and the care they needed for Daryl.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick and Carol get Daryl to the medical help he needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who left kudos on the last chapter. One more chapter and an epilogue after this one.  
> Hope you enjoy it.  
> Thanks for reading.

Home turned out to be a trailer park close to the city of Manassas in Virginia. It was an attractively laid out site, built for the purpose of affordable property for those commuting to Washington DC. 

As they waited for the gates to be opened Rick surveyed the surrounding area. The high fences were strong, sheet metal heavily reinforced with both metal bars and wooden stakes. The top of the fence was edged with razor wire and he could see several watch platforms equally spaced around the perimeter, each manned by at least two alert marksmen. 

Despite being within the boundaries of the city, the whole area was surrounded by trees, something that bothered Rick. He’d felt the same at Noah’s community in Richmond, he would prefer a clear line of sight in case of attack.

It took a few minutes for the gates to be opened, those manning them were wary of the unknown truck and the strangers in the back but Jemma convinced them to allow access. 

She drove towards the centre of the community, slamming her hand repeatedly on the horn as she approached a trailer, a red cross on its door. A middle aged man appeared as she pulled up.

“Jemma?” he queried “What’s all the fuss about?” his eye fell on the figures in the bed of the truck and at once he become pure professional.

“Let me take a look” he pulled open the truck's tailgate, already assessing the injured man in front of him, as he scrambled up

“What happened?” Jemma told him what she could and he looked at her in shock, shaking his head.

“Bastards” he muttered as he probed Daryl’s chest, looking for broken ribs. He found at least two. Without stopping his examination he instructed Jemma to get the wheeled stretcher from inside the trailer.

“We need to get him inside” He glanced at Rick, noting the tense way the man was watching him.

“My names Ron Thompson, I worked in the trauma department at the Orlando Regional Medical Centre. When everything went wrong I stayed as long as I could to help then loaded an ambulance with every supply I could get my hands on and got the hell out of the city. A few hours later the army bombed it” He closed his eyes briefly at the memory “I guess they thought it would contain the outbreak” He met Rick’s eyes, “I guess they were wrong”

“They napalmed Atlanta, including the refugee centres” Rick told him softly. “We went back, saw the aftermath. It was hell on earth”

The doctor moved to one side as Jemma arrived with the wheeled stretcher. Between them they carefully manoeuvred the unconscious Daryl onto it and wheeled him inside.

The trailer had been set up as a fully functioning, albeit basic, hospital. There were four beds arranged side by side and shelves of equipment and drugs. A small portable x-ray machine was standing to one side. A door lead into what had been set up as a simple operating room, a stainless steel table dominated the area, spotlights surrounding it, attached to car batteries. A smaller table to one side held several metal trays, each containing surgical instruments, covered with plastic sheeting to keep them sterile.

Daryl was lifted onto the table and Ron shooed all but Rick outside.

“I’m gonna need some help, figured he would prefer you to the women. We going to have to lose some of the clothes” he explained as he began to cut what was left of Daryl’s shirt away.

Rick bit back the smile at the thought of the reclusive hunter coming round to find himself half dressed in front of anyone, never mind Carol and Jemma. Together they began to clean him up and treat the various injuries.

Daryl awoke to find himself laid out on a table again, a strange man standing over him, a scalpel in his hand. At once he lashed out, knocking the man back, swallowing back the yell at the pain in his arm. He’d convinced himself he had heard Rick’s voice but now believed, in his pain and confusion, he’d imagined it. He tried to get to his feet but felt someone restraining him.

“Daryl, it’s okay, you’re safe” a familiar voice spoke close to his ear, as he felt himself pulled back, strong arms stilling him as he struggled.

“It’s Rick, we found you, bought you to the Doc. He’s trying to help you” The voice was calm and reassuring and Daryl felt himself relax. Rick loosened his hold and eased him back down.

“You’ve been badly hurt, let Dr Thompson take care of you” Rick moved to the side of the table, coming into Daryl’s line of sight. At sight of the familiar face Daryl finally accepted he was going to be okay and let the medic approach him.

It had taken several hours but finally Dr Thompson was finished. He was exhausted but satisfied he had done the best he could. The man’s injuries had been appalling, he’d had to re-break his fingers to set them correctly and it had taken a long time to clean and repair the shattered hand properly. The gunshot wound on his leg was clean but required stitching and he’d had to open his arm up to set the broken bone, holding it in place with metal pins. He thanked God he still had some local anaesthetic left and had been able to numb the area. The various other injuries had been cleaned and stitched if needed. He’d left the hunter settled in one of the beds; an IV attached to his arm to re-hydrate him and, with Rick’s help, managed to convince him to take some painkillers and a sedative. As a man used to healing others he was still finding it difficult to accept the damage had been caused by other men. 

Brett and the others had returned bringing with them the rest of Rick’s group, including those left in a safe place while the rescue took place. To everyone’s amazement this included a baby less than a year old. Five women, survivors from the attack on their town, had also been bought in. He’d learned from Rick that they had been part of that town until the leader had refused to help Daryl. It had only been hours after they left to begin their search for their friend that it had been attacked. Rick had confided he did feel some guilt and wondered if things could have been different if his experienced, hardened group had still been at Alexandria. He had known the townsfolk were sheltered and weak, most of them unable to defend themselves. The Doctor had shrugged and told him it made no difference now, what was done was done and nothing could change it.

He was heading to the communal building, a double wide trailer that had been converted into a kitchen and eating area, with space for everyone to gather and eat together when a movement caught his eye. The woman who had arrived with Rick and Daryl stepped out of the shadows, approaching him with a soft smile on her attractive face.

“Hi” she said quietly “I saw you heading over and just wanted to say thank you for everything you did for him. Rick told me it was bad, how much you had to do. I want you to know how much we all appreciate it”

He gave her an awkward nod.

“Just doing my job” he muttered, suddenly embarrassed.

“It was more than that. From what I heard you saved his hand. He uses a crossbow; he’d be lost without it. You fixed it so he could keep using it.” She leant forward and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you” She turned to go, glancing over her shoulder one last time.

“I’m Carol by the way”

Daryl was laid out in one of the beds in the hospital. The doctor had given him so much pain medication he didn’t actually hurt any more. He lay there warm and content, happy to know his family had made it. He still couldn’t believe they had left the safety of Alexandria for him. Unfortunately Gabriel had elected to remain behind; wanting to stay where there was a church. Daryl couldn’t help but wonder how good the man’s God was being as he was probably dead by now.

He was trying to flex his hand when he glanced up to see Jemma approaching, a mug in her hand.

“You up to eating something?” she asked, standing hesitantly at the side of the bed. “It’s just some soup but it’s hot and tastes pretty good”

He suddenly realised how hungry he was and struggled to sit. One arm was now in a cast and the other hand was bandaged, two fingers splinted and wrapped, making moving difficult.

“Let me help” Jemma set the mug down and reached for him, at once he recoiled.

“I can manage” he snapped.

She shrugged and moved away, watching.

Finally he managed to get upright.

“What you lookin’ at?” he demanded, seeing her leaning on the wall, a small smile on her face.

“Just waiting to see how you manage with one arm in a cast and the other hand all strapped up”

He shot her a glare she ignored realising she was right, there was no way he could feed himself. Without saying a word she sat next to him and picked up the mug. Reluctantly he let her hold it as he took hurried noisy gulps; thanking God Merle wasn’t around to see it.

“Your group all wanted to come see you but Doc Thompson told them you needed the rest tonight. I guess you’ll get mobbed in the morning. We’re getting them set up in their own places tonight” she told him “They seem like good people”

“They are” he confirmed “Gave up everything to come after me”

“Looks like it was a good thing they’d left before Lawson and his assholes got there” Jemma set the now empty mug down.

“Did Rick tell you Lawson and Russ got away?” At his nod she continued.

“You think they’ll try anything?”

He shrugged “Can’t say, wouldn’t think two of them would be dumb enough to attack on their own, but you can’t be sure. You got people on look out?”

“All round the perimeter, all the time” she confirmed as she rose to leave.

“Get some rest now, Ron’ll be sleeping in the side ward tonight. He always does when there’s a patient” With a final smile Jemma exited the hospital.

Daryl slept the best he’d had for months, partly due to the drugs in his system and partly through exhaustion, and awoke feeling pretty good all things considered.

Ron checked him over and declared him fit enough for visitors. Within seconds the hospital was full of his friends. He was overwhelmed by the attention, not used to affection and people who cared about him. Finally Ron chased them out, declaring he needed to rest. Maggie was the last to leave, standing at his side, looking down until he began to feel uncomfortable.

“Thank you” she said finally “Thank you for sending Glenn back to me” she bent and kissed his cheek gently “You’re one of the best and bravest people I know” 

“Yeah well, I guess you don’t know that many people nowadays” he muttered quietly, hearing her soft sigh as she stood back.

“Don’t keep putting yourself down all the time. Glenn would be probably be dead if it wasn’t for you giving him and the others the time to get away” she squeezed his uninjured shoulder “I’m glad we got you back”

The next couple of days passed in a hazy blur. Ron insisted on giving him painkillers and sedatives, telling him he needed time to let his body heal, that he was lucky to be alive. For once Daryl did as he was instructed. He didn’t like feeling helpless and weak and wanted to be on his feet again as soon as possible.

When he was awake he was rarely without visitors, Carol and Rick being the most regular. Michonne had returned his angel wing vest and crossbow to him and they both rested on a chair at his bedside. His broken fingers and damaged hand were a problem, he wasn’t sure if they would ever heal well enough to use his beloved weapon again but he was determined to try.

On his third night in the hospital Jemma arrived, once again bringing him something to eat, this time a plate of meat and vegetables. He brushed aside her offer of help and managed to feed himself, using his fingers.

“Doc’s got the night off, so I’m staying here tonight” she told him, adding with a smile “Got himself a date with your friend Carol”

Daryl stopped chewing, his blue eyes staring at her from under his hair.

“He’d best be good to her, else I’ll find a way to beat his ass into the ground” he growled.

The woman laughed at this sudden protective side.

“He’ll treat her right; he’s a real old-school gentleman. He still opens doors for women and stands when they come into a room. I heard him asking Elsa in the kitchen if she had any chocolate and he got one of the hunters to find him some wild flowers earlier today. That didn’t go down too well with Arnie” she laughed again at the memory of the burly hunter returning with several rabbits in one hand and a tattered bunch of flowers in the other, muttering all the time.

After talking for a while she took her leave, going to the small side ward used by the Doctor when he stayed overnight.

With a goodnight she closed the door, leaving him sleepy and warm, content with a full belly. It wasn’t long before he drifted off.

He awoke groggy and disorientated, not sure where he was for a while. Taking some deep breaths he relaxed, laying quietly for a few seconds. It was then he became aware of an unfamiliar weight on his chest. He glanced down and his blood ran cold.  
Lying on the blankets that covered him, neatly coiled up, was a set of familiar looking manacles.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all those who left Kudos and comments on the last chapter. Hope you like this one. Epilogue will be up in the next few days.  
> Thanks for reading.

Before he could move a rough hand clamped over his mouth and nose, forcing his head back into the pillow, making it hard to breathe.

“You really think we’d let you and your band of friends get away with what they did?” a familiar voice snarled. Daryl twisted his head enough to see Lawson looming over him, his face contorted in fury. The anger was replaced with a grin when a burst of gunfire came from outside, closely followed by a second, then a third.

“That’s the sound of your friends dying “he gloated. “There are plenty of other groups like mine around if you know where to look. Groups I’ve traded with, groups I knew would love to get their hands on a place like this. It didn’t take much to persuade them to attack”

White hot, desperate anger flooded through Daryl and he lashed out with his injured arm. The cast caught Lawson’s wrist and he lost his grip on Daryl’s face. At once he rolled sideways, half jumping half falling from the bed, struggling to regain his feet as Lawson lunged towards him. A fist caught his jaw hard enough to make his head spin but he managed to get his arm up in time to block a second blow. He swung a punch of his own, catching Lawson in the gut. Lawson barely blinked but a blinding pain travelled up his arm and he guessed the Doc was going to have to do some more work on that fractured bone.

Lawson lashed out, again aiming for his head. He ducked dodging a blow that never came. At the last second Lawson changed direction, seizing Daryl’s hand. He grabbed the broken fingers and forced them back, laughing at the sound of snapping bones. Daryl gave a yelp of agony as he kicked out managing to force Lawson back. It didn’t stop him for long and soon he was advancing again.

“I’m not planning on killing you just yet” he taunted “I want you and that bitch to suffer. You’re going to see your companions die first then I’m going to take my time with the two of you. The last few days are nothing compared to what I’ve got planned” He was moving closer with every word, fists clenched ready to hit out.

“Step away from him, put your hands where I can see them” Jemma was behind him, her gun levelled at Lawson’s head, her voice confident.

He turned slowly, his hands raised.

“I was wondering when you were going to show yourself” he mocked as he stepped towards her.

“Stay there!” She demanded, hands steady as she pointed the weapon.

There was a blur of movement from the shadows in the corner of the room as Russ surged forwards, crashing into Jemma and knocking her face down onto the ground. She lost her grip on the pistol as Russ pinned her down, his knee in her back.

“Been waiting for you, bitch, knew you was hiding out in that room” he grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm behind her, yanking her up onto her knees, burying his free hand into her hair and forcing her head back.

Daryl and Lawson both went for the discarded gun, Lawson getting to it first. Daryl grabbed his arm, wrenching it back, trying to grab the weapon. Lawson pulled himself free and swung the gun. It struck Daryl on the cheek, the blow knocking him back. Lawson raised it again, butt first. He brought it down hard into the back of Daryl’s head, giving a satisfied grunt as Daryl slumped down, motionless on the floor. Giving the downed man a hard kick in the ribs, happy when he didn’t move, he turned his attention back to Jemma as she struggled with Russ.

As he turned he saw her hand move and before he could shout a warning she’d pulled a knife and thrust it into Russ’s throat. With a choked gurgle he released her, both hands clutching desperately at his neck, trying vainly to stop the bleeding. With a pleading look at Lawson he fell, knocking Jemma with him, trapping her under his twitching body as he bled out.

Jemma tried frantically to push the dead weight off as Lawson strode over. He stared down at his friend before putting a bullet in his head.

“I owed it to him not to let him suffer” He told her, his voice cold “You, on the other hand, I owe nothing”

Kneeling he picked up the knife that had slipped from her fingers when she’d fallen. He grabbed a handful of her hair and forced her to face him, bring the knife point close to her eye.

“It’s amazing how much the human body can take before it gives up and dies” he told her conversationally as he gently ran the flat of the blade down her cheek. Her hand came up and she scratched at his face, aiming for his eyes. With a laugh he pulled out of her reach.

“I haven’t forgotten about your claws” he laughed “Maybe I should declaw you like they do to vicious animals” He caught her flailing hand, forcing it to the ground, holding it in place with his foot on her wrist. With a sadistic smile he bought the knife down, touching her finger just above the top knuckle.

“Removing each finger just about here should do the job” he commented. He began to slowly apply pressure, smiling as a thin line of blood appeared.

Suddenly his body stiffened and he gave a strange wet gasp. The knife fell from his hand as he stared at her in surprise. She just about managed to roll sideways as he toppled over, landing alongside Russ’s body. It was then she saw the bolt protruding from the back of his head.

Finally shoving Russ from her legs she twisted round to see Daryl on one knee, using his crossbow to support his weight as he struggled to get to his feet.

“We gotta get outside, help the others” he told her through gasping breaths. She could see the dressings on his hand were blood soaked again and he was favouring his broken arm.

They were both suddenly aware that the gunfight outside had stopped, there was now just a chilling silence.

Jemma recovered her gun as she went to quickly Daryl’s side. She gripped his arm and hauled him up. As soon as he was on his feet he shrugged her off, trying to reset the crossbow, obviously in pain. She moved away leaving him to it, heading toward the exit.

The door to the hospital was flung open, Jemma swung her gun up and Daryl instinctively reached out, trying to push her behind him.

She gave a sigh of relief when she saw Brett, Rick and Glenn close behind.

“You’re okay?” Brett swept her up in a hug as the others moved to Daryl.

Rick glanced at the bodies of Lawson and Russ.

“We figured they’d come after you two, just couldn’t get here any quicker. He’d got a new group together and they took out two of the guards, using bows. No one saw or heard a thing when they came over the wall”

“We lose anyone else?” Daryl asked, allowing Glenn to assist him back to the bed.

“Two on the tower, one more from Brett’s group and Abraham took a bullet. The Doc’s patching him up. He’ll be okay” Rick explained. “We took all of them out. They won’t be bothering us again.”

Doctor Thompson rushed in, Carol close behind him as he headed straight for Jemma.

“You okay” he hid his concern under a gruff voice.

Once he was convinced she was fine he turned to Daryl, taking in the bloodied hand and the way he was cradling his broken arm again. With a sigh he began to gather the equipment he needed.

“You didn’t want me to see Carol all you had to do was say, you didn’t need to do this to cut my evening short” he quipped as he cut the ruined dressing away, cringing at the reopened wound and ignoring the vicious glare aimed his way.

“All my good work ruined” he complained.

“You’ll get used to it with him” Carol smiled as she rested her hand on Ron’s shoulder.

Daryl met her eyes.

“You okay?” he asked. Carol knew him well enough to know he didn’t mean as a result of the attack. It was his way of asking if she was happy.

“Yes, I think so” she told him softly “It’s early days but I think we’re all going to be fine here” 

Carl entered, carrying Judith. The toddler gave a squeal and reached out for Daryl.

“She missed you” Carl told him as he set her down on the bed. At once she pulled herself up and snuggled against Daryl, her chubby fingers pulling at his hair as he wrapped an arm around her waist to stop her falling from the bed.

“Cute” Jemma was watching, an amused expression on her face “ never took you for such a soft touch” His reply was totally unsuitable for young ears and Judith was whisked away by an indignant Carol.

Once again everyone left as Daryl was patched up and threatened by Ron, told in no uncertain terms what would happen if he didn’t look after himself.

“Only thing I’m gonna damage my hand on again is your face it you do anything to hurt Carol” Daryl retaliated “You best treat her real good”

Ron nodded “She’s a special person and I intend to treat her exactly how she deserves. You don’t need to worry about that” he promised.

“You better, I’m gonna be keepin’ an eye on you” Daryl growled, much to Ron’s amusement. He’d already had a similar conversation with Rick and another with Michonne, albeit those were slightly less threatening. He was expecting one from Glenn or Maggie at any time. 

“Much as I appreciate the way you all look out for each other you know you’re all safe here now. You don’t have to worry anymore. We take care of our own and now you’re all part of this community” Ron backed away, heading for the door.

“You get some rest, I’m going to try and salvage the rest of my evening, if that's okay with you” Daryl studied him for a long moment before giving him a slight nod.

“You go take care of her. She’s tough but she needs someone now and again” he muttered.

Ron opened the door, feeling like he been given a seal of approval. He couldn’t help the laugh at Daryl’s parting shot.

“Jus’ remember I got my eye on you”

It was a couple of days later and Daryl was finally out of the hospital. For some reason Tara and Rosita had decided to be the ones to show him round. He’d planned to be suspicious and grumpy, not wanting to trust anyone, but found himself warming to the place.

The people he met were relaxed and friendly but not naïve like those in Alexandria. He got a sense that they knew how to defend themselves. Glenn and Maggie had been on runs with some of them and said they knew exactly what they were doing, killing walkers quietly and without a fuss, only using guns when absolutely necessary. 

The community itself was secure and well-guarded, people on watch 24/7. They had already adapted the towers to prevent another attack using arrows or bolts. Sheets of clear plastic, salvaged from a nearby industrial unit, had been fixed to the front of the towers, holes for weapons cut into them but offering full visibility and protection to those on duty. Daryl couldn’t help but be impressed with the efficiency. 

Tara and Rosita were prattling on about running water and drainage, as well as solar power and schooling for the kids but he’d stopped listening. 

He saw Rick and Carl laughing as Judith took small tottering steps, falling over every few feet, he saw Maggie and Glenn snuggled together as they walked to the trailer they’d been allocated. That was nothing new, they hardly kept their hands off each other at the best of times, but he knew they were smiling and more relaxed than he’d seen in a long time. Michonne was leaning on a tree, watching the Grimes family, a small smile on her lips as she thought no one noticed her watching Rick in particular. Daryl smirked, everyone noticed except Rick. For a former cop he wasn’t always the most observant. Abraham was joking with Eugene, finally accepting the mulleted man’s lies about Washington. He heard Carol laugh for the first time in forever. Turning he saw her leaning towards Ron, her eyes sparkling as he linked arms with her, escorting her gallantly to the eating area. 

Finally he saw Jemma talking to Brett. He turned away quickly when she caught him staring, missing her smile and Brett’s eye roll as he grinned at his sister, shaking his head good naturedly.

He was suddenly aware Tara was talking to him, pulling at his sleeve to get his attention.

“So what do you think?” She asked “Does it meet with your approval?”

He glanced around, taking another look at his friends, his family in everything but blood.

“Yeah” he said slowly “I guess it’ll do”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all those who have taken the time to read this work, I really hope you have enjoyed it and a massive thanks to all those who have left kudos and comments throughout.
> 
> I wasn't 100% happy with this epilogue when I wrote it and I'm still not sure. I would love to know what you think. 
> 
> Enjoy - hope it's not too sappy, but everyone deserves a happy ending!
> 
> Thanks for reading.  
> xx

Epilogue

Daryl stretched his legs out, burrowing deeper under the thick blankets. Even after the best part of a year in the trailer park community he still couldn’t get used to comfortable beds and good food. Reluctantly he sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, reaching for his clothes. It had been months before he felt secure enough not to sleep fully dressed, with his boots on, ready for a quick getaway. It had taken a while for all of them to get used to the concept of having a change of clothes, never mind clothes just for sleeping in.

Quickly he changed, pulling on his angel wing vest, trying to be as quiet as possible as he prepared himself for the run with Rick and Brett. He glanced at the tangled blankets and the slim figure sleeping there, still finding it hard to accept that she was his and, if he was totally honest with himself, he was hers.

It had taken weeks for him to fully recover from the damage caused by Lawson and his men and he knew he’d been a real pain in the ass during that time. He’d been unable to hunt or go on runs, instead stuck behind the fences going slowly crazy. His hand was still stiff and the broken fingers hadn’t healed one hundred percent correctly. He could still use his crossbow but found he wasn’t as fast or accurate with it anymore, something that had taken a long time to come to terms with. 

They had found a safe haven in the small community, accepted by the people already there and treated as part of the group right from the start. They had their own homes but ate in the communal eating area, taking part in the daily meetings to discuss day to day survival. 

Maggie and Glenn had been active in going outside, searching for supplies until her announcement that they were expecting their first child. At once she was wrapped in cotton wool and banned from anything more dangerous than laundry or cooking duty. It was her turn to go stir crazy and Daryl sympathised. 

Carol and Doctor Thompson were now officially together, sharing a small trailer near the hospital. At first Daryl had been unsure how he felt about their relationship but even he could see that Carol was happier than she been in a very long time and he was pleased for her.

Rick had finally noticed Michonne’s interest and the two of them were gradually growing closer, still taking things slowly but the mutual attraction was obvious, much to Carl's delight. Judith was now an inquisitive 2 year old, into everything as she toddled around, adored and protected by everyone.

His friends knew him well enough to ignore his bad temper and black moods while he was recovering but the people of the town avoided him, scared by his surliness, the large knife at his hip and the crossbow that was never far from his side. Jemma was one of the few that didn’t put up with his attitude, publicly putting him in his place on more than one occasion, much to everyone’s amusement. Grudgingly he found he respected her for her that and the fact that she was very easy on the eye didn’t go unnoticed either.

They danced around each other for months, neither wanting to make the first move, both scared of possible rejection from the other. This meant the rest of the group entertained themselves by pushing them together at every opportunity. Brett put them on watch duty together in the towers as often as he could get away with it, Glenn made sure they were always sent on the same runs and Rick sent them to patrol the surrounding areas several times a week. They both knew what was going on but chose to ignore it.

It was on one of these patrols when it all went wrong. 

It had started out as normal, the two of them leaving the community and moving into the forest. This time they had a newcomer with them, a college graduate called Giles. He’d been found injured on the side of the road; hurt fleeing from the walkers that had destroyed his previous camp. It didn’t take Daryl long to decide he was an “arrogant little shit” as he put it much to Jemma’s amusement.

Her amusement quickly turned to annoyance when, despite being at least a decade younger, he continually flirted with her, paying little attention to the surrounding area, almost getting bitten when a walker came from nowhere, latching onto his arm. Reluctantly Daryl stepped in and took the walker down.

Shaken by the close call Giles shut up and kept his mind on the job. Finally they came to the derelict house that marked the edge of their patrol area.

“Front doors open, weren’t before” Daryl noted, raising his crossbow as he cautiously approached the run down property.

“We’d best check it out” Jemma was close behind him as they made their way inside. The two of them made their way from room to room, Giles standing guard by the entrance. Once they were sure downstairs was clear it was decided to check upstairs.

“Could be a person or group here, we have to make sure there’s no threat” Jemma explained to Giles as she studied the wooden staircase before glancing up at the hole in the ceiling above.

“Rains got in, the woods rotten. We’ll have to take care” she commented.

“I’ll go” Before they could stop him Giles bounded up the rickety stairs, no regard for any possible danger.

“Giles!” Jemma hissed as she instinctively followed him. He had just reached the landing when the walker lunged into him, sinking its teeth into his shoulder. With a scream he tried to pull free, instead losing his footing and tumbling backwards down the stairs pulling the walker with him. Daryl could do nothing as they crashed into Jemma and the three of them plunged downwards. The impact of the falling bodies was too much for the crumbling staircase and floor it was standing on. The floor beams gave way and they crashed into the basement below.

Daryl threw himself forward, dropping to his knees at the edge of the hole. He saw Giles feebly trying to pull himself away from the walker. With one of its legs twisted at an impossible angle and its left arm hanging uselessly the walker was dragging itself along the floor, trying to reach an unconscious Jemma. Daryl aimed and fired, the bolt hitting its shoulder, not slowing it in its attempt to reach the motionless woman.

Uttering several obscene curses aimed at Lawson and his group for damaging his hand so badly Daryl dropped the eight feet or so into the basement. The walker had just grabbed Jemma’s ankle when his knife sunk into its skull and it slumped forward. He dragged it away and knelt by her side, checking quickly for bites. Lifting her head carefully he saw the huge lump where she’d struck it during the fall.

With another curse he moved to scoop her up. A whimper behind him made him turn. Giles was half sitting against the wall clutching at his bloodied neck.

“Help me” he snivelled “You’ve got to get me back to Doctor Thompson”

“Aint nothin’ he can do for you now” Daryl turned back to Jemma, scooping her gently into his arms.

“You shoulda listened to her then neither of you’d be in this mess” Daryl headed for the basement door, ignoring the pitiful cries behind him as he made his way out of the house.

He felt no remorse for leaving the young man to die and turn, as far as he was concerned he’d bought it on himself by being such a cocky little ass. His priority was getting Jemma back as soon as possible. 

She was a slight woman but his arms and legs were burning by the time he stumbled back to the gates of the trailer park. He’d started at a brisk walk, hoping she would come round by herself but the longer she was out the more concerned he became. Soon he was running, crashing through the undergrowth with no regard for the noise. It was a good five miles and took him what felt like hours. She stayed limp and silent in his arms, even when he’d stumbled and fallen to his knees, almost losing his grip on her. Finally the gates had come into sight and he’d screamed for them to be opened. Hands had taken her from him and he’d collapsed to the ground, fighting to regain his breath and control his pounding heart.

Carl bought him water but he shrugged it off as he forced himself up again and headed for the hospital. He barged inside to see Ron examining her, a look of concern on his face.

“How long has she been out?” He demanded.

“Hour and a half, maybe two” Daryl told him “She aint made a sound since it happened. She gonna be okay?”

“I don’t know yet” Ron turned his back, effectively dismissing Daryl.

The door burst open and Brett rushed in.

“The hell happened?” he yelled, getting into Daryl’s face. Daryl pushed him back carefully, understanding exactly how he felt.

Brett paced the room as Daryl explained what had happened, turning to him when he’d finished.

“Thank you for getting her back so quick” he said quietly. He ran his fingers through his hair as he stared at his sister, pale and still on the bed.

“You know she’s waiting on you to make a move” he faced Daryl, “She gets through this you better do what she wants, else we’re gonna have a problem” He resisted the smirk at the look of panic on the normally stoic hunters face.

“You tellin’ me you want me chasin’ after your kid sister?” Daryl was incredulous; normally brothers warned him off.

Brett gave him a small grin, “Won’t be much of a chase” he moved away, sitting at her bedside, clasping her clammy hand as they waited for her to wake up.

It was several hours before she stirred, a groan followed by a curse making the three men aware she was awake. Brett leaned closer.

“Sounds like you’ve been spending too much time with Dixon, picking up some bad habits” he scolded her, hiding his relief behind big brother banter.

Jemma managed a tired smile, her hand coming up and grasping his tightly.

“You’re the one keeps putting us on the towers” she countered. Ron checked her vitals declaring her out of danger, just in need of rest.

They all turned at the sound of the door closing, Brett shaking his head with a rueful smile.

Daryl headed away from the hospital; he’d waited until he knew she was going to be okay before leaving now he didn’t need to be there anymore. He wandered around for a while, not sure what he wanted to do, finally deciding to go and see Rick and the kids.

Judith gave a squeal of delight when she saw him at the door and threw herself into his arms. Michonne watched with a smile.

“You know, the only time I see you smile is when you got Judith hanging off you” she told him.

“Aint got much reason to grin nowadays” he countered, glancing up from under his hair.

“I’m sure if you tried really hard you could think of something, or someone maybe” Michonne teased, laughing when he turned away with a barely restrained growl.

It was three days since the incident and Daryl hadn’t seen Jemma since leaving her at the hospital. He knew she was up and about because Maggie had made a point of telling him. He’d had a long day out hunting, managing to bring down the first deer they’d had in months. He still found it hard to accept praise and gratitude and decided not to join the others in the communal area. He knew Carol or Carl would bring him something to eat, they understood his need for solitude.

His stomach was rumbling in anticipation when there was a light tap on his door. Opening it he found Jemma leaning on the door frame.

“Carol asked me to bring you this” she held out a covered plate, smiling when he snatched it from her hands and stepped back. When she didn’t move away he glared at her.

“You want somethin?” he demanded

“Just waiting for you to ask me in” As he grudgingly stepped back she slipped inside, closing the door behind her.

He sat at the small table and devoured the food, enjoying the first venison for a while. Jemma leaned against the wall, watching him.

“Everyone wanted to thank you for bringing in the deer” she told him.

“Don’t want no fuss, just did what was needed” he spoke between mouthfuls.

Jemma moved closer, sitting opposite him at the table.

“I wanted to thank you for saving me. Doc tells me if you hadn’t got me back so quickly it would have been too late for him to do the procedure that relieved the pressure in my head. Another hour or so and I’d probably have died”

He gave her a brief nod.

“Would’ve done the same for anyone” he told her as he pushed the now empty plate away.

“I know” she replied “But that doesn’t mean I’m not grateful” With that she rose and closed the space between them. Leaning down she went to place a kiss on his cheek.

To this day he doesn’t know what made him do it, where he suddenly got the balls from but as she leaned in he turned his head. The kiss aimed for his cheek caught him on the mouth. Surprised Jemma tried to pull away but his hand caught the back of her neck and kept her close. Slowly he stood, looking down at her. She reached up and brushed the hair from his eyes, her hand lingering on his face.

“What took you so long?” she questioned as they moved closer, lips meeting again.

After that first awkward kiss one thing lead to another and he soon found himself as one half of a couple, something he’d never experienced before. Waking each morning with her by his side was something he thought he would never get tired of.

“You off soon?” her voice bought him back to the present, glancing round he saw her, sleepy eyed and tangle haired as she sat up. He noticed she was wearing one of his sleeveless shirts again and giving him a look that made him wonder how late he could be meeting Rick and Brett.

Knowing what he was thinking Jemma laughed, slipping from the bed and wrapping her arms around his waist.

“You have to go now, but I’ll be here when you get back” she told him with a wink “Just don’t be too late”

Reluctantly, with a final kiss, he left. As he walked toward the rendezvous point he gave a low whistle. A skinny German shepherd dog slinked out from under the porch. He’d found her, exhausted and half-starved while on a run and bought her back. He’d nursed her back to health and now she went everywhere with Daryl, already earning her keep as an early warning system for approaching walkers.

Rick and Brett were already waiting by the car they were to use, ribbing him good naturedly about distractions making him late. Brett feigned indignation when Daryl reminded him it was his sister they were talking about. 

As the car pulled away Daryl took a last look at the small community before the gate slid shut. It was the safest and happiest they had been since the outbreak began.

It was home.

END

**Author's Note:**

> A short prologue I know, but chapter one will be posted very soon.  
> Thanks for reading.


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